


carve a place in the hollow of my heart

by nebuleia



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catch Me Out Back Giving Louis An Angsty Backstory, F/M, Falling In Love, Found Families, Game Of Tropes, Insecurity, Light Angst, Romantic Fluff, S L I G H T L Y LMAO, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Touch Starved Louis, With A Twist, Written Pre-Episodes 3-4, jfc what did i do here, mention of child neglect, slightly canon divergent, this is the most self-indulgent thing i have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-07 07:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebuleia/pseuds/nebuleia
Summary: Any flustered protest dies suddenly in Louis's throat as Clementine turns to him and brusquely jerks the emerald collar of her faded shirt down a little, eyes averted. The blush already heating at his cheeks burns ever hotter.Light, golden in its sweet warmth, lies nestled at her heart, fluttering, before it begins to blossom beneath his gaze. Honey tendrils unfurl like a caress against her skin, pulsing gently as they curl high against the soft curve of her sternum, delve low beneath the ragged cloth.Louis catches Clementine's embarrassed, flitting gaze and can't do anything but stare at her, mouth dry.It's a sun, flaring bright and brillant in shadows of dusk and it's the most beautiful Mark he's ever seen."There," She chokes awkwardly, standing abruptly to rock slightly on the balls of her feet as he sits there, dumbfounded, heart pounding. "So, yeah."The constellation strewn across his chest, the one swathed in the soft opal and lilac of a newborn nebula, the very same one that appeared on the night she first kissed him,burns.





	carve a place in the hollow of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> the next chap of Take Me Home is coming I SWEAR DJFHKJ IM JUST EXHAUSTED FROM STUDY AND THIS IDEA WOULDNT LEAVE ME
> 
> if you feel anything additional needs to be tagged in this, please don't hesitate to reach out to me as well!
> 
> and with that, have some tropey trash my sweet, sweet readers, know that I adore every one of you for putting up with me spamming fic into the tag<3

Before the world went mad, before the dead lurched up and began hungering, before Ms Martin taught a eight-year old Louis a duet on the piano in an effort to distract him from the fact that the postman never came with a single letter for him even months in, the neighbours used to think it was cute that his parents had identical Marks for him (a labrador puppy, yipping and bounding around with tireless energy) twined at the ankle.

They'd pat his head, whisper to his mother with sly grins, suspiciously loud, about how adorable it was that their son was like a little pup. And she'd smile, all prim and pleasant, mouth curved neatly like the seam of a dress while she put her hand on his shoulder. Louis liked when people noticed the Marks, relished every second of the warmth bleeding into his shoulder, of his mother's nails sinking into the shirt. 

It's just the _best_ , far better than cuffs around the ear for pranks at school or when he tries to read aloud and Dad snarls and scowls at Louis's brain flitting and fluttering from thought to thought like a bird. They don't like to cuddle him, his parents, not like he's seen other kids with their families. Heck, his parents don't exactly even seem to like touching each other (not like Peter's Dad gently curling an arm around his wife's waist or Anne Marine's auntie kissing Jane Scott's mother beneath the cover of moonlight). So he tries to be good, tries to stifle urge to twitch and fidget, clenches his teeth when the tangled thoughts bubble on the tip of his tongue and keeps as quiet as he can. 

But sometimes, when the silence hurts his ears and the house feels somehow even emptier on the rare occasions they're all home, it's too much.

He tries, _honest_ , he does.

They like it when he tells them odd jokes or mimics animal noises. It makes his Mom smile and Dad snort behind the folds of his newspaper. It's like sliding a pin into sand; just a little of the pressure is gone, strained away. So Louis learns and smiles and watches for it to become Unwanted and even Unwanted can be good at times, when the loneliness aches sharper and the cold silence just won't go away.

The burn of Mom's fingers clenched around his wrist and the calm disappointment when he tells her why he was sent to Time Out or apologises for bothering Dad; it's better than the silence and indifferent distance, warm and solid and _real_ even as he nods and promises to do better.  

They love him though, he reminds himself of this again, sprawled across the carpet in an ocean of Lego, because otherwise he wouldn't have a Mark on them. Maybe they don't always show it, but they must care when even their very skin knows it. Little pup, little pup, Louis reminds himself. 

So he clings to this, day after day, relishing the times when he can hover close enough to them without getting the Looks in return that make his stomach sink the soles of his feet. 

It's a good day today; blocks don't care what shape you build them in and if he gets distracted, he can flit between two or three clumps of multi-coloured plastic at a time. It's calming in it's own way.  

"You know," His mother sighs, prim and proper in their moth eaten sitting chair. 

Louis listens absently to the rumble of her voice as he tries to jam two blocks together, thinks about how he isn't sure whether he'd eventually like a little brother or sister more, like the other kids around town, but really, _anyone_ would be good in the long stretches of nothing, day after day, where no one comes home.

His mother laughs a little then, sharp and a touch brittle. "Before you came along I said to him I didn't  _want_ a kid yet but your Dad, well, he just kept saying he would be getting too old soon and - " Here, her voice deepens, a crude mockery. " _Mama instinct will kick in like nature intended_ ," 

Ice floods Louis's veins, sharp and prickling. His mind goes utterly blank and it's as if he is slowly slipping from himself, sinking into the space between his skin and the air above. He tips his chin up desperately to look at her, to ask if it was just a joke, a tease like the pranks he plays at school, but his gaze snares upon the Mark at her ankle and for the first time Louis sees with new eyes how tightly the pup is bound there, how its collar is the colour of a sickly bruise, like the binding of a chain wound too tight.  

"And I guess you didn't turn out half bad," She's still smiling, the neat seam stretched thin. 

The block falls from his numb fingers, hitting the carpet with barely a sound.

* * *

Marks don't mean much in the literal apocalypse; gently fading with every loss and it's gradually easing pain. No, Marks aren't the thing of soap operas and romantic comedies and grand actions of passion or enduring friendship like they used to be, but they're still something from Before. And like the old piano he refuses to let anyone think about turning into firewood, that _means_ something to Louis. Before might have been shitty at times, but it was a far cry from Now and it's every day routine of survival. 

Besides, Marks were great was fun to tease Aasim about Ruby, given the namesake jewel was there right between his shoulder blades and Louis was never ever going to let him forget it. 

It's dumb fun and hilariously embarrassing at best or a brief reminder of better times at worst, but always grounding in an ever changing world, and there's something precious about that. Sure, none of them exactly get _new_ ones anymore (except for when the worst happens) but Louis likes to niggle Brody about the streak of lighting at her wrist or gently nudge Violet's shoulder when she starts rubbing at Minerva's fading butterfly, her expression panicked. These ties to those they've lost, to those still with them, they're bittersweet. 

There's a rythme, a routine even, to this new life now and sure Louis finds it a little tedious, but it's better than Before and he has a family now.

Then Clementine sweeps in like a summer storm, armed tot in at her side, chaos in her wake and she's like nothing he's ever seen before. There's iron there, in the saddened twist to her mouth and the sharp flinch of her body at every unusual noise. But there's also a softness to her as well; in every interaction with AJ, in the cheeky grins and the clever glint in her hazel eyes.

It's cute as well, watching her get all flustered during a game explaining the hand of playing cards across her left shoulder and Louis jumps at the chance to tease her about the boy she clearly once had a crush on. 

 _She's_ cute, in a kick-your-ass-without-effort kind of way, which is even more attractive in all honesty. 

"Double dare," Violet looks like a cat with a dish full of cream, eyes bright when Clementine overturns a dud card. "Person with the second lowest number on their card has to exchange their worst Mark story with Clem," 

It's him, because of fucking course the universe wouldn't pass up a chance to help him embarrass himself in front of her. 

Louis resists the urge to swear before shuffling out of his coat, pulls the sleeve of his shirt down to expose the Mark on his shoulder. Clementine is already laughing before he can begin. 

"Kind of accidentally punched the Headmaster in the dick when he found me and Marlon out past curfew," Louis wheezes, head in his hands, knowing just how dumb a shield engraved with a hand flipping off its enemies looks. 

They've been over this more times that he can count, but somehow it's even funnier with Clementine's helpless giggling.

"I thought I was protecting you," Louis can't help but protest, snorting when he glances up to his best friend shaking with laughter himself. 

"Yeah well, you suck at protection, you dick," Marlon grins. "Got us both in detention for a week for that shit,"

* * *

And when Clementine stands before them, shielding AJ from sight, expression ragged with fear, the contours of her face highlighted by the scarlet splatter of Marlon's blood, the Mark at his shoulder burns like a brand.

Louis nearly vomits, soaked to the bone, the tips of his fingers tingling with cold.

Clementine meets his eyes once and shudders before she ushers AJ away, a snarling, protective Violet at her back. 

Louis stands there, rooted to the earth, to a fragment of time long gone. 

(" _You're my best friend," Marlon punches him in the shoulder, tiny little seven year old that he is, grin wide and easygoing. "You can always count on me,"_ )

* * *

He forces himself to ease his grasp on the gun, teeth clenched and it falls into AJ's hands like it weighed nothing of what it had felt tucked in the pocket near his heart. A beat passes between them, only the whisper of wind through the forest breaking the silence. Clementine's expression ripples and she blinks, looking surprised.

"Well, thanks,"

Anything he might've said, any boiling anger or roiling grief, turns to ashes on his tongue. It's the second time she's thanked him and on the fucking morning of her and AJ being kicked out. Christ, what can Louis even say to that? He braves the bitter nausea in his gut and looks at her, expecting a simmering anger if nothing else.

And there is something there, but not the snarling defensiveness he saw last night, like a lioness protecting its cub. No it's harder to put a name to; knotted in fear and frustration and something so alike to understanding that he nearly recoils right there, throat tight. 

"Yeah, sure," 

Louis leaves them there, walks away and tries to ignore the sickening prickle of guilt deepen.

* * *

It darkens and shifts over the weeks, aching like a new formed bruise. The shield of his Mark is no longer a brilliant silver, it's engraving now faded and murky. Louis tries not to think about it, about what it means about himself that he can look at AJ without resentment, that his heart can still flutter at Clementine's cautious smiles, when the thought of Marlon prickles bitter and painful at his eyes. 

 _'Why'_ , he wonders, standing at the foot of that grave, ' _Why did you never let any of us, me, ever fucking help you,'_.

The earth remains silent and offers no answer.

Louis's jaw aches from how tightly he clenches it and he blinks back tears. 

* * *

"Louis?" She jolts him to a standstill with one word. "I really missed you,"

Soft, shuddering intake of breath; unspoken heartache. 

"...Missed you too," 

The silence of night feels lighter now, soft and comforting. 

It's the first of many steps to healing.

* * *

"Here, let me help?" 

Clementine looks up at him, surprise evident, tongue still sticking out of the corner of her mouth from when she had been concentrating on stitching a tear in her shirt. Louis wonders nervously for a moment if she's going to spit in his face, tell him to fuck off or something similar. He can't exactly say anymore that he wouldn't deserve it. 

But she doesn't, only smiles slightly and thanks him. Her smiles around him aren't as cautious or fragile as they were before, a week ago and the notion sits, warm and fluttering, in his chest. 

_I like you._

Louis has always been good with his hands and sowing came more naturally than most things to him. 

_I like you and I'm sorry._

He half-expects her to leave but Clementine stays by his side, tells him with a sweet excitement about how beautiful her new Mark is (she pulls off her boot to show him the thorny rose twined protectively at her Achilles heel and it really is a lovely Mark, visceral in its colour). Violet overhears them and blushes scarlet, flipping him off when he yells after her to show them what Clem gave her. 

Louis pushes down the stirrings of ugly, sour jealousy and grins. 

_I like you and I wish I'd been better than I was._

* * *

He's babbling, Louis knows he is, the apology near tripping off his tongue but he just can't seem to stop, not even when Clementine's expression morphs into something near incredulous, tinged with pain (which is silly, why the hell would she be feeling bad right now?). 

"I forgive you," She breathes and Louis's heart stutters to a halt, relief washing over him. It's the pin sinking into the sand all over again, except this time it's as if there is no sand at all, like those three words had washed in like the mighty tide and swept all the unsaid things that lay between them away.

With time, he hopes they can be friends again.

* * *

That night, Louis _burns_ , tries hopelessly to sleep after hours of Abel's snarling and whimpering. 

Violet's iron dagger, familiar and comforting, aches upon his skin, the Mark shining bright in the moonlight. She's gone. She's fucking gone and he let it happen, just like Marlon all over again. Guilt curls hot and thick like smoke in his lungs and Louis hisses a sob into the ragged slips of cloth they call pillows now. Christ, what are they going to do now?

What can they even do with Abel's smug silence, grinning like a hyena with bloodied teeth?

He doesn't want to think of the newfound constellation scattered across his chest and its surrounding nebula, of the shiver that curled down his spine when it burst into existence, summoned by the soft brush of Clementine's mouth to his own, tripping over her own confession. 

So he doesn't, even if the memory lingers still, a soft sweet temptation from everything else he'd fucked up today. 

* * *

Louis like to walk the halls of the school when he feel restless or can't sleep. Pacing around until he's exhausted enough to fall back asleep is maybe the one sure way he can combat the nightmares successfully. Can't dream if you're pretty much unconscious and all. 

That night however, trying to rub away the images burned behind his eyes, Louis decides to get away from the too small hallways and their memories, and walks towards the yard. 

Clementine nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack when he sees her there, crouched like a cornered animal in the moonlight courtyard. He can't help it, slumped on the stone stairs and shaking with laughter, watching all that curly hair go awry as she startles at him opening the door and suddenly trips over the bucket at her feet in shock, ending up sprawled across the freshly soaked dirt.

"Jesus, you're such a dick," Clementine wheezes, rubbing a hand over her face. "What're you even doing out here, Louis?"

He could ask her the same to be honest and almost does, but sees instead the stain upon her wet hands, dark and familiar. Louis swears under his breath, reaches for her hands only to stare when she jolts them away. 

"Don't worry - "

"Your hands are covered in blood! What the hell did y-"

"I said I'm _fine_ ," She almost appears to curl in on herself, expression twisted and that's enough to shut him up. So he simply sits with her in the silence of night, a chill autumn breeze rustling through the surrounding forests, tousling her hair. If she doesn't want to say anything, he won't push her.

He glances towards her hands once more and sees the stain has dissipated. His stomach sinks. 

A Mark, then.

He may be a dumbass, but Louis knows there are moments when they all need just a little time with only the silence and the whisper of one's own thoughts. Clementine's tense shoulders and stony expression eventually soften as the minutes pass and she cautiously threads her fingers with his, as if she expects him to flinch and reject her. 

He doesn't, only squeezes her hand gently. 

They're getting better at this, at the push and pull of slowly threading intimacy.

"I'm sorry, it's just - "

She stumbles to a halt and Louis looks at her, strokes her knuckles and tries to think of something to say. Some way to help. 

"He should be more than his death," Clementine whispers after a moment, the words sinking softly to the darkness, bitterness dark and low in her tone. 

It's all too clear now - a Mark of bloodstains near a decade old that she'd been frantically trying to scrub away from her skin - and he regrets even reminding her of it. Lee Everett's ghost has, after all, never left Clementine's shadow. 

"He is," Louis assures her gently and the words feel too little, too paltry to ease the pain she carries, the grief that lingers on the edge of sleep and bleeds anew upon her skin.

Clementine flinches, eyes wide. Louis doesn't know what to do with the raw vulnerability there, shattered across her face with the unspoken grief but she accepts the hug, if a little stiffly, and he strokes her hair until eventually she buries her head into his collarbone. 

A shaky breath escapes her lips. 

They don't talk about Violet or Aasim and Omar. 

* * *

Louis still doesn't tell her about the Mark and tries to ignore the shame he feels, knowing why that is, even now with them all doggedly stalking the Delta's tracks.

There has never been a rule to say the impact one has on another's life is reciprocal. 

"You're being weird about this,"

"Clem, it's dumb okay? It doesn't matter," 

He sees her nose crinkle by the light of their campfire, clearly unconvinced and sighs. 

"No," She protests, frowning at him through the flames of the fire between them. "It does matter."

He breathes through his nose and concentrates on the dancing embers, absently fiddling with the skin around his nails. 

"It's fine, _we're_ fine. It's just dumb stuff about Marks, I don't know alri - "

"Marks? Why would you care - " She trails off then, looking shamed. She knows about his parents, after all, about why this stupid biological response formed of chemical reactions and colouring, sets him at an unease. 

His luck has been uncanny when it comes to his Marks on others being accurate reflections of how they feel about him. It shouldn't hurt after so many years, but it does, a lingering ache in his heart.

God, why couldn't he have just kept his stupid mouth shut. At least no one else was awake to hear or see this utter train wreck of a conversation. Louis opens his mouth to laugh the entire awkward situation off when his girlfriend stands suddenly, expression somehow both strained and resolved. 

It already makes him nervous and he tries to wave her off. It doesn't work as it never does when she has her mind to set to something and Clem ends up sitting beside him, legs crossed. 

Any flustered protest dies in Louis's throat as Clementine turns to him and brusquely jerks the emerald collar of her faded shirt down a little, eyes averted. The blush already heating at his cheeks burns ever hotter.

 _Light_ , golden in its sweet warmth, lies nestled at her heart, fluttering, before it begins to blossom beneath his gaze. Honey tendrils unfurl like a caress against her skin, pulsing gently as they curl high against the soft curve of her sternum, delve low beneath the ragged cloth.

Louis catches Clementine's embarrassed, flitting gaze and can't do anything but stare at her, mouth dry.

It's a sun, flaring bright and brilliant in the evening light of dusk and it's the most beautiful Mark he's ever seen.

"There," She chokes awkwardly, standing abruptly to rock slightly on the balls of her feet as he sits, dumbfounded, heart pounding. "So, yeah."

And the constellation strewn across his chest, the one swathed in the soft opal and lilac of a newborn nebula, the one that appeared on the night she first kissed him, _burns_. 

"That's what you mean. To me. I mean, not literally a sun but yeah...you...um, yeah?" Clementine babbles, turning redder by the second and waving her hands about and Louis does the only thing he can. 

Clementine squeaks when he pulls her suddenly into his lap and kisses her fiercely, arm curled around her back. She blinks, stunned and he nearly starts apologising when it its stopped by an embarrassed, soft smile at her lips. She leans in and kisses his forehead, as warm and lingering as the hand stroking his cheek. She doesn't ask about a reciprocal Mark but it's almost as if she doesn't need to, calling him a dork when she cuddles closer, brushing one last kiss to his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Ace for nearly convincing me to make Violet's Mark on Clem be chicken nuggets :P
> 
> Yes these all have symbolism lmfao
> 
> Marks for Clem:  
> \- Sun on heart (Louis)  
> \- Links of chain on right shoulder (Kenny)  
> \- Hand of cards on left shoulder (Gabe and Javi)  
> \- A yellow lily in between her shoulder blades (AJ)  
> \- Blood on her hands which comes and goes, fades and bleeds anew (Lee)  
> \- A thorny rose around her Achilles Heel (Violet)
> 
> Marks for Louis:  
> \- Constellation w a nebula on heart (Clem)  
> \- Dagger across the left forearm (Violet)  
> \- Shield on shoulder (Marlon)  
> \- Oak sprout (AJ)  
> \- Chain link around ankle (Parents)  
> \+ other smaller ones for other Boarding School Kids
> 
> I really hoped yall liked this little ficlet! I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you'd be willing to share them :D Thank you for any kudos, comments or even just for reading, my loves! 
> 
> Come yell with me on tungle about these dorks if u wish <3 (@clouis-loumentine)


End file.
